Searching for Someone
by Callie8M
Summary: Sometimes you have to run away, just to see if anyone cares enough to look. But Buffy knew they could find her if they really wanted to. All summer in LA and she hadn't heard anything, which only confirmed what she already knew; they weren't searching for her. But little did she know, someone else was. After all, he was always searching for Slayers, whether he realized it or not.S3
1. No one

**Author's Note: New story! Please review! Tell me if you have questions or whether you like it and I should continue or not!**

**Timeline: Starts before the episode Anne between seasons 2 and 3.**

**Rights: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the characters that inhabit the Buffyverse. Or Spike. Sigh. But this story, except from dialogue taken from the show, is all mine. Plagiarism isn't cool, so don't do it. **

* * *

Spike wasn't sure if someone was actually pounding on the door, or if he was just drunkenly hallucinating. He glanced over at the overweight man lying next to him, his throat ripped out, blood slowly dripping down into red puddles on the wood floors. Spike knew the git didn't have any family or friends, that's why he had chosen him. Who would want to talk to this workaholic at this hour of the night?

Spike groaned at the headache that began to form as the persistent knocking continued. Suddenly feeling annoyingly sober, Spike grabbed the empty Jack Daniels bottle from beside him and threw it in anger, the glass shattering against the surface of the door and clattering to the floor.

It got very silent, and Spike almost thought the person on the other side had gone away. He sighed in relief, rubbing the throbbing from his temples and closed his eyes, still too exhausted to get up from the ground, when he heard nails scraping against the other side of the wall. Spike froze, every fiber of his being going on high alert at that familiar sound. _Drusilla_.

Not that he needed to, but suddenly Spike couldn't breath, and as he finally convinced himself to stand up, it felt like he was moving through caramel, all his movements slowed and time stopped all together. _Dru was back, she came back, my dark princess._

Spike staggered to the door, his breathing ragged. _She left, she said it was for good this time, but she's back. _He clenched the gold doorknob and turned it, throwing the door open.

"Dru?" Spike's cracked voice called into the hallway.

Something furry scratched at his jean clad legs and meowed at him to move. Spike's heart dropped at the sigh of the little black cat, watching it with tears in his eyes as it scouted around his legs and continued into the apartment. He leaned against the wall as his legs gave out, sliding to the floor with a thump.

_Gone. She was still gone. It's been months. _It wasn't the first time Drusilla had left him, but she always came back in the end. It only took her a few weeks, sometimes only days to realize he was the one who really loved her. But the longer she was gone, the more Spike realized it had nothing to do with love. He took care of her, she needed that. He loved her, he guessed she needed that too, but she didn't love him back. He could sometimes convince himself she did when they were together, but now, it was harder to lie to yourself when the cold, hard truth is staring you straight in the face.

It crushed him each time she left, but he always wanted her back anyway. Even now. It's amazing really, how someone can break your heart, time and time again, and you still love them with all the little pieces.

_It was a good thing_, Spike thought, _that he was dead and didn't need his heart. Surely blood can't run through something so broken and bruised._

He closed his eyes as hot tears ran down his pale cheeks, his stomach grumbling, reminding him that he hadn't eaten for days. He forgot sometimes, that he needed to eat. It seemed boring now without someone to share the hunt with. Empty. Everything was empty now. Spike sometimes wondered why he didn't just stake himself and get it over with. He was thinking this, estimating the amount of energy it would take to crawl over to the coffee table, rip off the leg and plunge it through his chest, when he noticed a bottle of booze hidden behind the bright yellow curtains on the window behind the couch. _Closer then the coffee table. _

He crawled behind the couch, grabbing the stashed bottle and fumbling with it for a few seconds before opening it and taking a huge swig.

"So the blokes an alcoholic, huh?" Spike said aloud, trying to joke, but it sounded weak and pathetic even to his own ears.

_What's the point?_ He had meant it about joking, but suddenly realized it applied to his whole existence now. And with that, he downed the bottle, passing out in a drunken heap quickly after that, never realizing that cats can't knock on doors.

* * *

"Your roommate's not home, but I left the kitten right in front of the door. I gotta go catch my flight, but if you need any help with her, call me. And thanks for doing this Anne!" Aubrey gave me a huge toothy grin before getting back in her car and heading to the airport where her new husband was waiting for her to go on their honeymoon.

I didn't usually do these kinds of things, but Aubrey was nice and about my age. She would stick up for me when old guys would hit on me at work, and take one of my shifts if I wasn't feeling well. Her husband, Brian came into the diner every day to pick her up, and Aubrey's face would light up the second she saw him. It hurt to see it, and I hated it, but at the same time I honored other people's love, and nobody loved each other live they did. Brian gave her that kitten when he proposed, which just shows how much he adores the little black haired girl because Brian's deathly allergic. Aubrey loved kittens. Especially that one. And that's why I had agreed to take it last week when she announced she was going to Hawaii on honeymoon.

I tucked my greasy hair behind my ear, vowing to take a shower the second I got upstairs. Grabbing the cat stuff Aubrey had left on the sidewalk, I speed walked into the building; Anne didn't run. The dinky lobby was empty except for the receptionist named Margaret who was passed out on the desk. The promise of sleep and a shower gave Anne the strength of walking up the staircase to the fifth floor. Buffy could've done it in her sleep, but I sometimes liked to think that Buffy died months ago, back in that old mansion, with Angel. I wasn't Buffy anymore. I was done with that. Done with fighting demons and saving the world and sacrificing everything when the world wasn't even grateful.

I made my way down the hall, to the last door on the floor, opening the door and setting the cat stuff in the kitchen. That's when I heard the screaming.

"Oh, Annie! Thank God you're back!" My roommate Karen was fanning herself dramatically while simultaneously pulling me farther into the small living room and pointing at the little TV tuned to a news channel.

I glanced at it and then looked back at her with a bored expression. Karen was an actress, or well, actually she was a waitress at a bar down the street from the diner I worked at. The biggest thing she was ever cast in during her twenty years in LA was a toothpaste commercial in the 80's that I was convinced she made up just to impress people. But she called herself an actress, and if you didn't as well, she would throw a fit and make you watch her act out every single movie known to man until you were wishing you were deaf. Or blind. Or both.

Of course, I hadn't known any of this when I met her my first night at the diner in LA and she offered me a place to stay. But she's not so bad sometimes, I still have no idea how, but she manages to pay her side of the rent so it's better then nothing. Other times, like today, when she's obviously in her dramatic mind set and wants me to play along, I wonder if the diner would still let me work there if I poke my eyes out or if the hobos would let me live with them in an alley instead of staying here. But I was way too tired to go find a nice box to sleep in, so I just looked at her.

"Karen, I'm too tired right now. Can you please practice your improvisation or acting skills or whatever you call them with someone else?" I walked past her towards the door that led to my small bedroom.

"No, Annie, I'm not acting! Did you hear the news? There's a wicked serial killer in LA," Karen replied, throwing her arms out to the side to express her point.

Karen liked to call me Annie, because Anne is "boring and overused". I didn't bother telling her that the name Karen was probably just as bad because last month she had a phase where she demanded I call her Mulan and wouldn't answer to anything else, even though I'm certain she's never been to China and probably never even seen the movie.

"That's great Karen," I replied.

"No, really there is! Look!" Karen grabbed my arm before I could reach the safety of my bedroom and dragged me to the TV.

I realized she wasn't kidding when the screen flashed to a photo of bodies. There really was a serial killer.

"It's not usual for people to die in LA, why do they think the deaths are connected?" I asked her.

"Apparently, the victims throats are mutilated, like an animal bit them or something. Totally wicked," Karen said as they showed photo after photo of different people that had died over the summer.

All with their throats ripped out. Drained of blood. Vampire. The slayer in me screamed to get to action, but I slammed her down. Anne isn't the slayer, I reminded myself. Someone else's job. As the camera zoomed on the most recent crime scene from a few days ago, I noticed how messy the kill was. Anyone who knew anything about vamps would know it was one of them. It was being careless, almost like it didn't care whether it was caught or not. Strange.

"Well I'm going to Josh's house, wanna come Annie?" Karen asked.

"I'm going to go to sleep, but thanks," I told her.

She nodded, her bright orange curls bouncing everywhere. Karen gathered her colorful sweater and purple handbag, her long acrylic nails tapping against her chin as she thought of more stuff to bring to her boyfriends apartment. She eventually piled her bag full, blew me a kiss and left in a swirl of silver glitter, singing "Have a wicked night Annie!"

Wicked was Karen's word of the week. I can't complain though, last weeks was asshat. I sighed, making my way once again towards my room before realizing with a groan I had lost Ms. Twinkle Toes, Aubrey's cat and I'd only had her about twenty minutes. Yeah, I know. _Ms. Twinkle Toes_. God, everyone in LA is weird.

"Here kitty, kitty!" I called checking the entire apartment before realizing the stupid thing wasn't even here.

Where did Aubrey put her?

I smacked my forehead, remembering how Aubrey was dyslexic and often thought I lived on the sixth floor in the fifth room instead of the fifth floor and the sixth room. I grabbed the first of the little cat toys I saw and headed out the door and to the staircase, realizing on the climb up that it was the toy that Aubrey said was supposed to be a hot dog, but I knew Brian had bought it because it looked like a certain male body part.

Once on the next floor, I scanned the hallway for the little black ball of fur, but she was nowhere in sight.

"Come out kitty, please come out," I called, walking down the hall, taking time to look behind the dying plants to see if she was there.

I stopped at the fifth door, curiously peeking in since it was open. Maybe Ms. Twinkle Toes went inside?

"Hello?"

I stepped over the threshold, noticing the blood stains on the floor. I frowned, smelling the alcohol. What happened? Was there a party here? Parties, a little voice in my head whispered, remember how you used to love those?

"No,_ Buffy_ loved those. Anne doesn't. She's boring, unexpressive and empty," I told myself harshly.

I heard a floor board squeak, my muscles automatically tensing.

"H-have all the drinks you want. I-it's fine, r-really!" A mans voice shouted from another room.

I looked around the brightly painted room, seeing if there was anyone here but me. Nope.

"Mr. Terrance? Are you ok?" I cringed at the words that spilled from my mouth.

It's ok, I told myself. It's not like I went looking for crime. Anne would help if someone is in trouble, she just doesn't look for it. Right? I sighed, shaking my head. It was all so confusing.

"Anne Smith? From the fifth floor?" The older man peeked out from the little bathroom and glanced at the couch and then back at me with terrified eyes.

"Yeah, it's me. Were you robbed?" I asked.

I noticed broken glass by the front door but other then the blood in the middle of the room, everything looked to be normal.

"Y-yes. He must have left, thank you dearie," with one last check of the room to make sure no one was here, Mr. Terrance exited the bathroom.

"Is this your blood?" I gestured to the floor.

"Yes, but I'm fine now, really. I'll just clean it up and get some rest. He's gone," The balding man said the last bit as if he was trying to convince himself.

I noticed his throat was bandaged.

"Are you sure? Do you need to go to the hospital?" He notice me looking at his neck and he pulled up his collar.

"No. I'm fine. Have a nice day," Mr. Terrance nodded, dismissing me.

"Call if you need anything, I'm right downstairs," I said, nodded at him and he thanked me.

I left his apartment, imagining taking an hour long shower while going back down the stairs, when I stopped in my tracks, feeling my skin tingle. Vampire, my slayer sense screamed. Horror gripped my heart, but not because of possible death I was going to face, no, it was the realization that for the first time in months, someone wasn't looking for Anne. They were looking for Buffy. _They found me._

Good, part of me said, not like you're really living anyway. I shrugged, realizing the voice was right, and I headed to my apartment.

I went inside, shutting the door, not seeing any threat. I acted as I would normally, taking off my shoes and apron on the way to my room, opening the door while pulling the ugly red and white dress over my head.

"Buffy," a voice whispered from inside the darkness, I paused with the dress at my thighs and pushed it back down, going into the room even though I could feel the vamp only feet from me.

I waited. For the pain, death, suddenly I wanted it because anything would be better then living like this. Like I have for months. As Anne. Without Angel. I waited for something, anything, but I was disappointed. I realized I had closed my eyes, and I opened them again, letting them adjust to the room.

I could hardly believe what I saw.

"Spike?"

The vampire, clothes as black as night and hair still as bleached as ever, was curled up in my bed, with Ms. Twinkle Toes, both fast asleep. I felt my face move, and I realized with a start that I was smiling. It was comical really, how adorably they were snuggled together. I almost felt like laughing for the first time in what felt like years.

I left the room, heading to the bathroom and taking a shower to scrub the grim from my body before wrapping myself in one of Karen's purple fuzzy towels. I took a deep breath, opening the door to my room again, wondering for the hundredth time while I was showering if I had just imagined Spike. Nope, he was still there. I tip toed over, making sure they were both really asleep. That's when I smelled the alcohol surrounding the familiar vampire. I frowned, and it brought me back to reality. No, not sleepy adorable. Spike equals killer.

I kicked him in the stomach.

Ms. Twinkle Toes woke but the stupid vampire just grunted but didn't wake from his drunken sleep. The little kitty gave me an annoyed look before snuggling back into Spike's arm.

Ridiculous. My life has now entered the world of ridiculous.

"Spike. What are you doing here?" I poked his shoulder.

He didn't even move.

"Spike?"

Nothing.

"William?"

Nope.

"Wake up!" I punched his arm angrily and was shocked when he suddenly rolled toward me.

I realized how out of shape I was when he grabbed me and I didn't even have time to blink. It wasn't even a fight; when he pulled me to him, I was too weak to even pull back. I expected him to sink his teeth into my neck and part of my wanted that, but instead he pulled me on top of him, rolling over so he was holding me in his arms against his body. Surprised, I looked up into his face, realizing he was still fast asleep.

"Don't leave," he murmured, burying his face in my hair and holding me tight.

Ms. Twinkle Toes meowed angrily at the attention I was getting, but I ignored her and eventually she just curled up at the end of my bed.

"Drusilla," I realized.

She must have left him after the deal we made. My heart hurt at the broken expression he made at the mention of her name even in his sleep.

"Don't leave," he said again.

I should've, and I probably could've moved as he fell into a deeper sleep and his grip loosened, but didn't budge. Because no matter how much I told myself that I didn't care anymore, some small part of me ached to be needed again. I didn't know how, but I knew everything was going to change as I snuggled into Spike, imagining he was Angel. It was scary, how in one night this one vampire could change everything, bring down my walls even for a second.

"You're crazy," I smiled, laying my head on his chest.

I listened to the silent absence of a heartbeat and felt myself grow tired. Ironic, isn't it? How he was technically dead, but so much more alive then anyone I had ever known.

A taxi beeped outside the window and Spike woke abruptly. He looked around, disorientated for a moment until his bright blue eyes met mine.

"What's going on?" he asked groggily, his voice husky from sleep.

"I don't know," I replied, because I didn't, and that would have freaked me out before but right now I didn't seem to care about that.

"You…you're in LA? Where's Angel?" he asked, confused.

I stiffened, pulling away from him, feeling like I'd been split down the middle all over again.

"Buffy, I'm sorry, pet," Spike actually apologized, pulling me gently back on the bed.

We sat next to each other for a long time, not touching but close enough to feel someone else. I realized it was the first time he called me Buffy.

"I lost her too," he choked out.

I took a shaky breath and shook my head.

"We're not talking about this," I replied, looking him straight in the eye.

"Why am I here? Why are you here? You hate me," Spike continued.

"Buffy hates you. I'm Anne," I pointed to the name tag on my uniform that had been discarded on the floor.

"But-,"

"We're not talking about this," I said again.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile at my directness.

"Then what are we talking about then?" he asked, his voice having returned to normal, his accent stronger.

I realized then how much I had missed it, his voice.

"The weather. Normal people talk about the weather, right? I'm normal now. I'm Anne," I sighed.

He gave me a look.

"No, you're Buffy and you're special. And you'll never be normal, luv. Neither of us are ever going to be normal people," Spike replied, looking away.

I looked at my hands.

"I know. But can we pretend? Just for tonight," I asked quietly.

"We can pretend for as long as you want," he said gently, but firm, and with that, he laid down and went to sleep.

I watched him for a while, memorizing the sharp planes of his face as they softened in sleep. And then I joined him, curling up to his side, a sigh of relief escaping my lips at the simple realization that I wasn't alone anymore.

**A/N: Review!**


	2. Worth It

** Authors Note: Got a few reviews from the first chapter so here's another one. Can we get to 10 reviews on this story?**

** Oh and about Spike and the invitation to her apartment, although it seems like a plothole now, I actually have a reason that it happened the way it did. It'll be explained soon, but I'm glad someone was paying attention! Feel free to ask any other questions anyone has.**

** Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, Spike was gone, and I found myself disappointed as I realized it all must have been a dream. It's weird, thinking about someone from your old life coming into your new one. It makes you remember things, even things you tried so hard to forget. One of the less painful things it made me realize, even if it was just a dream, was how weak and out of shape I had gotten from not training all summer. I looked pretty much the same, but all muscle mass I had before had just about withered away to nothing. So with literally nothing better to do a few days later on Saturday morning, I changed into sweatpants and a tank top, putting on sneakers before heading out the door for a run.

That lasted for about twenty minutes before I stumbled back up to my apartment and collapsed on the couch. I was tired from working crazy hours all week and my leg's felt like jelly, but I had come back because more then the pain in my legs, it hurt, doing something from my old life. It reminded me of people I was supposed to forget.

"Stupid Spike. Messing everything up, even in my dreams," I shook my head, finishing drying my hair after the shower and going over to feed Ms. Twinkle Toes.

"Hola!"

The front door opened with a bang and Karen appeared, dressed in a white pantsuit with peacock feathers in her hair.

"Hi Karen," I replied as she came over to me, hopping up on the little counter top next to the sink and watching me as I filled the cat's food and water bowls.

I could tell she had some gossip to spill because of the way she wasn't breathing and how her eyes were watching me, waiting impatiently for me to ask how her morning was. She looked kind of like a goldfish.

"What did you do this morning?" Karen finally asked once I started washing the dishes and she realized I wasn't paying attention to her.

I sighed, putting the plates away and drying my hands on the little towel.

"Well, I went for a-,"

"That's nice. But you'll _never_ guess what I did this morning! It was totally wicked," Karen called happily bouncing up and down like a five year old instead of the thirty year old woman she was.

I knew from experience when Karen wanted to tell you something, ignoring her won't help. Her boyfriend Josh once told me she bit the ear off her last roommate because she didn't listen to Karen's story. I wouldn't put it past her, but I have a feeling Josh made it up. He's not exactly a reliable source, mostly because his brain is the size of a peanut, and I know this by the question he asked me the last time he was over here "Hey, if you mated a bull dog and a shitsu, would it be called a bullshit?"

I shook my head, leaning against the sink and turning towards my roommate.

"What did you do this morning?" I replied and Karen smiled, pleased I had finally asked.

"Well, if you must know, I got a wicked callback! For a cereal commercial!" Karen yelled joyfully, jumping from the counter and hugging me.

"Congrats," I patted her shoulder, removing myself from her embrace and going into the living room.

Karen pouted, put out by my reaction, or lack thereof.

"You know what you need, girl?"

A new roommate?

"A wicked girl's night out!" Karen screeched, her brown eyes lighting up with excitement.

I backed up like a cornered animal.

"I really don't think-,"

"Nonsense, it's my treat girl. We both need to let loose and par-tay!" Karen shook her butt.

"But it's the middle of the afternoon," I pointed out.

Karen rolled her eyes at my logic.

"Don't be stupid Annie, we'll go at nine. I'll be back then, but for now, I have shopping to do! I'll bring you back something wicked!" she exclaimed, shaking her butt once more before grabbing her stuff and leaving.

I didn't even have time to argue before the door shut and I was alone again.

"Do you think I should go, Ms. TT?" I asked the kitten, and she meowed.

As much as I didn't want to "par-tay" I knew Karen wouldn't leave me alone if I didn't. Better to get it over with, I guess. And what harm out it do?

* * *

A lot, apparently. I'd never been to a bar with Karen before; never been to a bar the whole summer actually. I knew she was crazy, but I never knew she was _this_ crazy. Especially when dancing.

I hadn't even wanted to dance. I was content with sitting alone sipping my ginger ale when Karen pulled Josh off the dance floor to drag me onto it. Next thing I knew, BAM! A fast song came on and Karen's limbs flew everywhere, her elbow ending up in my face. She helped me to the bathroom, apologizing the whole way and helped me clean myself up, promising to let me sit for the rest of the night.

Once back at the table, she offered to get me a beer. Anne was eighteen, she had to be to work that many hours at the diner and have an apartment, and so Karen thought I was eighteen too. But she knew I wasn't old enough to drink.

"Not old enough," I declined over the loud music.

"It's no prob, just tell the bartender I sent you. He'll hook you up. We used to sleep together. You could try him out, he's wicked," Karen winked, flashing me a smile before going back to dance.

Rolling my eyes, I hopped off the stool and made my way to the bar, just searching for some ice to stop the throbbing in my nose. But the bar was dark and busy and as I waited, I was accidentally pushed from behind and since I was till wearing the ridiculously high highs Karen had forced me into, I toppled over like a drunk sorority girl and landed on the gross floor. Pain shot through my ankle and I hoped I hadn't sprained it in fear I could loose my job. At least I was forgetting about my nose.

A pale hand reached down to me as I sat up.

"Thanks," I took it gratefully, brushing the hair out of my eyes.

He helped me up and I tested my ankle, thankful for only the small ache when I put pressure on it.

"No worries,"

I stopped, looking up. I squinted in the dark, the few flashing lights giving me no indication as to who the man was in front of me, but we both knew I knew it was him. For some reason, I wasn't even surprised.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, wishing I could see him, to see a familiar face.

"Saving a damsel in distress from the wankers of LA," he chuckled.

"How noble of you. Now where's your ulterior motive?" I replied, putting my hand on my hip and I realized I was smiling.

"Ulterior motive?" he scoffed, but I could hear the smirk in his voice and I realized he had begun to walk towards the tables next to the bar.

I followed him and sat across from him in the booth.

"What? You don't believe me?" he asked, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting up.

His sharp features softened and he gave me his best innocent face, but a second later I watched through the smoke as his blue gaze burned into mine, his mouth turned up in a smirk that could rival any other man, human or demon.

"No," I scoffed and he chuckled.

Spike was a lot of things. Innocent wasn't one of them. He was like the opposite; pure sin.

"I thought I dreamt you," I said after a while of silence.

"Yeah? Why's that?" he replied.

"Because we weren't fighting for once," I joked, laughing softly.

One side of his mouth lifted in a smile as he blew out smoke.

"You're not so bad, you know, when you're not trying to kill me," he told me.

I smiled at the twisted compliment.

"Same to you,"

"Wanna dance?" Spike asked suddenly, throwing his cigarette under the table.

I raised my eyebrows at the sudden request. Such a weird vampire.

"What?" I asked in surpise.

He chuckled at my reaction.

"Normal people, remember? Normal people dance," Spike said firmly, getting out of his seat and peeling his leather coat from his body and throwing it in his seat.

He extended his hand to me like he had done just minutes ago while I was on the floor. I looked at it for a second, before throwing logic and reason out the window and taking his larger hand in mine. His skin was cool in the hot room and I shivered as he led me onto the floor of sweaty and screaming partiers.

It suddenly occurred to me how long it's been since I last danced. I stopped, my breath hitching. Angel was the last person I dance with. _Angel…_

"Spike," my voice cracked pathetically and I pulled my hand out of his grasp.

He turned to face me in our little pocket of space between the other people. He took a look at me and his face softened and he nodded in understanding.

"I know. She was mine too. But this is how normal people forget. I think we need to try too, Slayer," Spike reasoned and I cringed away from him.

"I am _not_ the Slayer", I barked, scaring the couple next to us, "Not anymore. I'm Anne,"

Spike nodded.

"Nice to meet you Anne, I'm William. Would you like to dance?" He smiled, holding out his hand like he was asking me to waltz.

I looked at his hand and then back up in his eyes.

"What are you doing, Spike?" I asked, confused at his nice actions all night.

He laughed.

"We're playing pretend, remember? Just normal people, normal friends, having a dance together. No slayers, or demons or apocalypses," Spike assured me.

I sighed, looking down as the song ended. My heart ached and I resisted the urge to flee.

"It hurts. To have fun…without him. I can't. I feel guilty," I whispered softly, but I knew he could hear me.

"Yeah, I know. But we gotta do somethin', it'll be worth it," Spike took my hand.

I let him; it felt natural for some reason.

"It's hard,"

"'Never said it would be easy, I said it would be worth it. I have a feeling neither of us feels like fighting now, so just let go, just for tonight," Spike smiled, and I was sure it was the first genuine smile I had ever seen grace his face.

It stunned me and I had to remember to breathe for a minute. I nodded, and stepped closer as another song began and I started to dance, a bit awkwardly at first; I was out of practice. But eventually I just turned my mind off and let my body take over, moving with Spike's surprisingly graceful moves.

"I still hate you, you know," I told me, smiling slightly.

Spike chuckled, winking at me as he spun me around.

"Still hate you too,"

* * *

**Review!**


	3. Drained

**A/N: I'm really enjoying writing this story, so here's another chapter! Brouhaha is actually a word by the way, I looked it up haha.**

Late Sunday morning when I woke up, I briefly wondered if I had dreamt last nights encounter as well as the first. But feeling the soreness in my body from dancing and the angry blisters from Karen's shoes, my stomach did an odd kind of flip-flop as I realized it all had actually happened.

Letting loose of all the stress and sadness last night with Spike had put me in a good mood today, and I was happily making breakfast for myself, Karen and Joe, who were still snoring away in their bedroom when reality came crashing down, bringing me back to my senses. The TV was turned to the news channel when I turned it on and before I could switch it to something else, I saw the latest news flash across the bottom of the screen.

**Three Bodies Found Drained of Blood Late Last Night.**

Spike. It must have been him, it was sloppy and angry like a vampire who had just broken up with his undead love. All night he danced with me, and later…God, I'm so stupid! I slammed down my mug to the counter top and Ms. Twinkle Toes jumped a foot in the air. He killed people right after we parted ways. What was I thinking he would do though? I wasn't thinking. He may act human, but he's not, and I forgot that recently. He tried to kill me and my friends all those times back in Sunnydale, and now would be no different. He was probably trying to get my guard down so he could bring me to Drusilla as a gift to get back together, hell, they probably hadn't even broken up. It was all lies. He's still trying to kill me, he always would. That's what vampires do. That's what Spike does. He kills Slayers, even retired ones. He's killed more than any other vampire has been able to in history. Did he trick them first to?

For the first time in a long time, I was mad. I've been annoyed and slightly frustrated while in LA, but this was much stronger. It boiled my blood and coursed through my veins like fire. It felt good. It reminded me of Sunnydale, of being a Slayer. Of fighting. Not demons necessarily, but life in general. Of not giving up. Of living.

I turned off the TV. I couldn't just sit here while people were getting hurt right outside, or upstairs, because the "robber" on the sixth floor must have been Spike too. People were dying. Innocent people. I couldn't ignore it, not anymore. I had to do something. I pushed down the guilt at having two friendly encounters with a serial killer and set my mind on destroying him the next time we met.

But I knew it wouldn't be easy, because even though Spike was too sad to be at his full strength right now, I knew from a few nights ago he was far stronger then me. I looked down at my arms, not realizing until now how skinny and weak they've gotten. And pale. I haven't looked in a mirror in months, not even bothering with the crappy diner I work in. God, I realized suddenly, I probably look like a vampire. I caught my reflection in the teapot on the little stove. I looked…drained. And dead. Like I imaged a vampire version of me would.

I shook that gross thought out of my head and flexed. Pathetic. Humans could probably beat me at this point. I should probably start working out and eating more then leftover pie from work. Come to think of it, today was the first day in my whole stay in LA that I was actually making myself food, the first day I was actually hungry. I forgot to eat sometimes, other times I felt sick when I thought of food, how I was lucky enough to even have something to eat while the love of my life was…no. Not going there.

I took a deep breath, shoving the plate of eggs I had made into the trash having lost my appetite. I made my way to the living room, turning the little radio on the table by the window on. A rock song blared through the little speakers and I laid down on the floor. This didn't mean I was the Slayer again, no, I was Anne now. I was just going to kill Spike, and then the police could deal with the rest. Spike was old, strong and a good fighter; the human law enforcers wouldn't have a chance. Plus there was this weird tightening in my stomach at the thought of someone taking him down, if anyone was going to kill Spike, it was going to be me.

As I lay on the floor like I had so many times in the high school library images of Giles training with me rushed through my head but I shut them out as I began to do sit-ups.

"What is all this brouhaha at this hour? Is there a reason you're blasting rock music on a Sunday morning?" Karen emerged from her room, her frilly pink bathrobe tied around her small waist.

I didn't answer. Whoa, I forgot how hard this stuff was. I am way out of shape.

Karen got a water bottle from the fridge and walked to stand over me, raising her eyebrows and demanding an answer.

"Sorry, you can turn it down if it's too loud. I was just trying to get motivated,"

That was a lie. I was plenty motivated after my realization about Spike, but I just wanted something to drown out my thoughts about...well…everything.

"It's fine honey, but since I'm awake, mine if I watch TV? I'll see if there's something brouhaha worthy," Karen asked as Joe came out of her bedroom and joined her on the old couch.

I'm guessing brouhaha is the word of this week. _Awesome._

"Karen, do you know what brouhaha means?" I asked, gasping for breath at my workout.

"No", she laughed, "But it sounds funny. Can I watch some brouhaha TV now?"

"Sure. Just…anything but the news," I shuddered, pushing myself faster.

I finally couldn't pull myself up anymore and just panted on the floor watching the bug on the floor next to me for a while. I named him Spike. I crushed him.

Karen turned the TV to a channel about exotic vacations and started squealing when the host began to talk about a great hotel deal in the Virgin Islands.

"Wait, I thought just virgins were aloud on the Virgin Islands," Joe looked at Karen, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

I looked over at the tall man's confused face, and rolled my eyes while Karen giggled like Joe was telling a joke, when we all knew he was dead serious.

"Well, I'm going to go for a run, or maybe walk, to the park but anyway I'll be back at dinner time at the latest. See you guys later," I headed to the mat beside the door to put on my sneakers.

"Ok, Annie, have fun with your brouhaha!"

I was opening the door when Karen called to me again.

"Wait! Before I forget, your boyfriend dropped off your handbag. Apparently you left it at the brouhaha bar last night,"

I stopped, my heart twisting painfully. Boyfriend…Angel…

I cleared my throat.

"I…I don't have a boyfriend," I choked out.

"Well whatever, friends with benefits, whatever you wanna call it, girl. Anyway he dropped your handbag off. I put it in your closet after you went to bed. He's seriously hot by the way, all that brouhaha muscle under the black and that platinum hair…," Karen stopped at the jealous look Joe was giving her.

I felt the blood drain from my face.

"Spike was here?

"Oh, right! That's his name. Pretty brouhaha, if I do say so myself. What's the problem? He was here the other night too,"

"He's invited in!" My eyes widened and I remembered the other night in my bed that I had forgotten.

He's been invited in. What am I going to do now? Move?

"Well of course. He was brouhaha drunk that night and was super like sad and everything, and he said you guys have history so I assumed…? So, I'm guessing I assumed wrong. Are you mad?" Karen looked worried for possibly the first time since I've met her.

Deep breaths, Buffy. Stay calm.

"No, its fine, Karen. He won't come during the day, but if he shows up here at night don't let him in and call me right away, understand?"

Karen looked shocked for a second at my forceful tone and I realized I had unintentionally slipped into authority Slayer mode.

"Got it. Have a brouhaha walk," she smiled and I nodded in thanks.

As I ran down the stairs and out the front door into the sunlight, I wondered why Spike had bothered to return my bag in the first place.

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	4. Sober

**Authors Note: So sorry for the long wait! Hope people still like the story after two months! Enjoy and Review!**

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Part of me knew this was crazy. There was no way I was just going to stumble upon Spike in a city full of like a _billion_ people, but that didn't stop me from roaming the streets and dark alleys until dusk. It seemed pretty logical hours ago when I was so angry smoke was probably coming out from my ears, but now I just felt stupid. Spike was a Master vampire. Even if I did find him, it wasn't like I would be able to kill him in my current physical condition.

I decided to head back to the apartment as the sky turned to black, figuring Karen would probably be freaked with how long I'd been gone.

Part of me couldn't believe I'd been so stupid to actually trust Spike and the other part was so angry I didn't know what to do. I wanted to punch something, but restrained myself. Anne didn't show emotion.

But then again, Anne was taking a little vacation until Spike had a stake in his chest. The only thing that kept me from throwing that garbage can into the brick wall was the idea that maybe Spike had put me under his thrall. Did he have a thrall? Wouldn't he have used it before now if he did?

Lost in thought as I opened the door to the building and passed the front desk, I jumped as Margaret called me over.

"Hey! Anne, this guy wants to talk to you," the older woman called to me as I turned.

Margaret nodded to the torn up seats on the far wall, one of which was occupied by none other then the bleached menace himself. Sitting with one jean-clad leg thrown over the arm, a cigarette dangling lazily from one hand while the other rested on the metal arm of the chair he looked like he didn't have a care in the world. Spike smirked as I looked at him, a trail of smoke floating to the ceiling.

I narrowed my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest and watched with anger as he carelessly flicked the cigarette onto the floor and stood up, sticking his thumbs through the loops on his black jeans and slowly walked towards me like a predator stalking his prey.

"Slayer,"

"_Spike_,"

He tilted his head, looking me over with interest.

"Can't believe it's really you. Thought I was having drunken hallucinations, but no, you're really here. Guess I gotta lay off the scotch," Spike chuckled, his blue eyes returning to my face.

"Lay off the bleach while you're at it," I retorted, straightening my spin a little to show him I wasn't scared of him, but in reality I was.

Spike opened his mouth but someone else beat him to it.

"Anne, what's a Slayer?" Margaret asked, looking up from the Angry Birds game she was playing on her phone.

"Who the fuck is Anne?" Spike furrowed his brow, looking between me and the receptionist in confusion.

I sighed, willing the oncoming headache away before smiling politely at Margaret.

"I'll tell you later. Spike, let's go,"

I gave him a meaningful nod towards the front doors, figuring nobody would be out in this neighborhood at night and no one would see us fight, but as usual Spike didn't listen to me at all. Instead he started towards the stairs up to the apartments and I hurried to catch up.

"What the hell do you think you're doing," I grabbed his arm.

I heard Margaret pick up the phone.

"Just wanna have a little chat with my friend _Anne_," Spike said it to me, but loud enough for the older woman to hear.

I glanced back at Margaret as he shook his arm from my grip.

"She'll call the cops," I hissed.

"I'll eat the cops,"

He raised a dark brow, daring me to argue but we both knew he was right. There was nothing the police could do against a vampire.

I sighed in annoyance as Spike smirked, turned around and made his way up the stairs like he owned the place.

"It's ok, Maragret, he's just an old friend," I explained to the confused woman before hurrying after the vampire.

I found him on the second floor landing.

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

"Where do you live?" Spike replied, glancing down at me.

What kind of mind games was he playing?

"You were at my apartment, Spike. You've been there," I looked at him like he'd gone insane.

He rolled his eyes.

"I was drunk off my arse, Slayer. It's all a blur in my head. Right now is the first time I've been sober in weeks, and the only bloody reason I'm not drinking now is because I just woke up behind this building and suddenly felt a Slayer near. Besides, I though it was all a dream,"

"You were behind my building the whole time!" I sighed in frustration, thinking about the hours I spent looking for him.

Spike gave me an odd look.

"Uh, yeah. Where's your flat, Slayer?"

"It's Anne. I'm not the Slayer," I told him firmly, my voice sharp with irritation.

"Why'd you change your name to Anne?"

"Because I don't want to be Buffy anymore-,"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm not daft. Changing your name, I get it, because sometimes it's easier to be someone else. I meant, why Anne?"

I looked at him for a moment, studying the sharp, pale planes of his face. What did he know about changing your name and…oh.

"It's my middle name," I responded quietly, looking away and before it could get even more awkward I hurried up the rest of the stairs, fast, but not quiet running. Anne doesn't run.

Spike and I arrived side by side at my floor, him with ease while I was slightly panting. He didn't comment on it, he had been unusually quiet for him on the way up and without a word I unlocked my room and pushed it open. The apartment was quiet; Karen must be out.

Thankful for that, I stepped inside and shut the door after Spike, watching as he walking around the small living room curiously, finally sitting down on the couch as his eyes returned to mine.

"What are you doing here, Spike?"

He shrugged.

"L.A. can be interesting. You didn't expect me to really leave the country did you?"

I gave him a look.

"You know that's not what I mean,"

"I do what I want. I don't need a bloody reason, I'm _evil_, Slayer,"

"_Anne_,"

"Whatever,"

I sighed, rubbing my tired eyes with the palm of my hands as Spike picked up the TV remote and turned it on. The news was on again, talking about another murder and after watching more a moment Spike scoffed at the screen.

"Baby vampires these days, the gits can't even hide a body,"

He shook his head.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, I realized he was sincere. He hadn't killed those people. Somewhere deep down I already knew that.

"If you're going to kill me, do it now," I told him, breaking the silence.

"I'm not going to kill you," his eyes never left the screen as he channel surfed.

I was too exhausted to deal with his mind tricks right now, I wanted to get to the point of why he was here if not to kill me, but I had a feeling he didn't know himself. Not that he would ever admit it. Maybe he was just lonely. I knew that feeling, but demons didn't get lonely. Did they?

I sighed, wishing he would say something.

"Spike, I'm tired, so fucking tired, I just want to sleep. What do you what from me?"

He looked up at me from the couch, tilting his head to the side in a familiar way as he studied my face. I didn't even care how much of a mess I was.

"Nothing, Buffy. I don't want anything from you,"

And maybe it was the quiet way he said it, or the sad look in his eyes or the fact that every single other person on the planet always wanted something from both Anne and Buffy. Either way I somehow ended up on the couch next to him and we spent the rest of the night watching soap operas until I fell asleep.

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